


And when the winter comes (keep the fires lit)

by maharetr



Series: Imagine Bucky - maharetr post [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky visits the Smithsonian, Ficlet, Gen, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve technically doesn't appear in the fic but he's also suffused in everything in it so, The Winter Soldier visits the Smithsonian..., Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharetr/pseuds/maharetr
Summary: He stares at the blue jacket on the mannequin and knows it’s a replica - there should be a mended tear on the left cuff. It’s not a memory, memories need context, a story, but he - heknowsthe feel of uneven threads against his left inner wrist.
Series: Imagine Bucky - maharetr post [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/255532
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	And when the winter comes (keep the fires lit)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Warren Zevon's song 'Keep me in your heart'.
> 
> Originally written for the [Imagine Bucky tumblr](http://imaginebucky.tumblr.com/), based on the prompt: "Imagine Bucky's thoughts when he went to Steve's war memorial" which lodged in my brain as 'the Smithsonian' and then this ran away with me... Posted 19 May 2015 [here](https://imaginebucky.tumblr.com/post/119352862898/imagine-buckys-thoughts-when-he-went-to-steves).

The Smithsonian is a tactical nightmare: open, multistory rotundas of exposed ground floor areas, followed by cramped funneling paths and all sorts of exhibit clutter obscuring exit routes. He’s been trained to deal with mission obstacles, as well as the seething mass of civilians that are streaming past his bench. He is trained to ignore the ache of his reset shoulder joint, too, but he is _so tired_. It’s a while before he can haul himself to his feet, pull his cap lower, and join the flow of people into the rabbit warren of exhibits.

The man on the bridge, the man on the helicarrier

_(friend)_

is being lauded. The man had been a war hero, and had been lost, but the man returns - the display says ‘found’, recovered from the ice, a miracle. Welcome back, Cap.

This is an intelligence gathering mission, so he tries to focus on the man’s vital stats and the display panels about the serum, but up ahead … 

He stares at the blue jacket on the mannequin and knows it’s a replica - there should be a mended tear on the left cuff. It’s not a memory, memories need context, a story, but he - he _knows_ the feel of the uneven threads against his left inner wrist. He knows cold nights, a campfire fire, a newspaper clipping in his left pocket, and the low and concerned voice of the guy in the bowler’s hat: ‘Bucky, you okay?’ - and there’s that fucking name again, and he wasn’t fine then and he’s not - now he’s -.

He shoves his right hand into his pocket to conceal the shaking but that only

_(lighter, smokes, pocket knife)_

makes it worse, so he presses his hand against his thigh instead and keeps himself moving.

There are display panels on each of the man’s former team members, and there is a crowd around the one on James Buchanan Barnes. He wants to read, and he is terrified of reading. There is a recorded voice from somewhere, level and inexorable:

“…best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable…”

He shuts out the shouting children, the random civilian chatter, and the recorded voice. He reads the abbreviated life history of James Barnes. There is a death date. His shaking is getting worse. There is a death date, and next to that is a black and white video looping on a screen.

The man – the man who had been on the bridge, his face twisted in distress – is happy in the video. The man is looking at 

_(him)_

another man, who is also smiling, laughing. This other man who the displays say is dead. Who has not been found, not recovered from the ice, not welcomed back. Hydra had

_(…the new fist…a gift to mankind…)_

“…the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

 _stolen_ him, they had taken his life and twisted a quick death in the snow into a lingering half-life of endless fear and murder and cold.

_(your name is james buchanan barnes)_

He’s clenching his jaw so hard his teeth creak. He will kill every last one of them.

There’s four exit points (two emergency, two exhibition paths) in this area, but he cannot move towards any of them. He can only stare at the looping footage. There are staged shots of battle planning, and a staged shot of - something that dissolves into unscripted laughter.

Hydra had taken everything, left him the cold machinery of weapons operations and murder. The footage gives him back the beginnings of warmth. He _knows_ – like he knows the feel of a mended sleeve – what it is to laugh like that, the way it loosens and opens his chest.

He is going to kill every last Hydra member he can find. There are going to be no accolades for him, no welcome back parades. But maybe

_(you’re my friend)_

there’s going to be a reason to come back, when all is done.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hat tip to Stephen King for the style, and esp to [potofsoup](http://potofsoup.tumblr.com/)’s agonizingly good headcanon on the [contents of Bucky’s left pocket](http://potofsoup.tumblr.com/post/90141412397/archeralli-a-weak-and-tortured-bucky-making). Seriously, five-plus years later and it's still devastating; go read it.


End file.
